


love lies bleeding

by broody_crow (dr_crow)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Happy Ending, Immortals AU, Light Angst, beau and yasha are too soft for this world, gotta protecc, kord is a bitch, my gals love flowers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:42:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28528656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dr_crow/pseuds/broody_crow
Summary: Shaking and holding the ever so colder body between her cursed hands, she cries and screams out her agony. "Kord, please! Save her!"Lightning strikes the ground around her, followed by the dark and loud rumble of thunder. "She dies today. And so, does your heart. For you shall live your eternity knowing everyone you love will be kept from you."
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha
Comments: 4
Kudos: 60





	love lies bleeding

**Author's Note:**

  * For [not_so_useless_les_bien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/not_so_useless_les_bien/gifts).



> Schatz, I hope you like reading this one as much as I loved writing it. A little late is always better than never, right?

Shaking and holding the ever so colder body between her cursed hands, she cries and screams out her agony. "Kord, please! Save her!"

Lightning strikes the ground around her, followed by the dark and loud rumble of thunder. "She dies today. And so, does your heart. For you shall live your eternity knowing everyone you love will be kept from you."

**

Mortals are interesting. So feeble and temporary, and yet still driven by an inner force that pushes them forward time and time again. 

They know nothing of the world, choosing to discover it anew with each new-born’s cry and leaving it in peace with each dying sigh. And it’s peculiar, Yasha thinks, how even with wars raging across the continents and death knocking on too many a door, mortals can find beauty in the smallest of things.

Flowers. Fleeting colourful memories that serve no other purpose than mortality itself.

Yasha has always been enthralled by the way the sprout – on too thin stems and at the mercy of greater powers – and by the way they grow stronger and stronger every day, until they’re ready to gift the world with their grace.  
Too often she thinks how unfair it is – having flowers fight for their life only to have them die in but a moment when it’s their time.

Yasha doesn’t hate flowers. But then again, short-lived joys like them do not belong to someone who has lived for thousands of years and will probably live for thousands more.  
They belong to bright hearts and kind souls, brief, and mortal as much as the flowers themselves are.

And the fact that Beau cares so much for them puzzles her. Beau, young and carefree entity doomed to the same eternity as she is, busying herself in a small shop full of plant life to the brim. It’s confusing.

The bell jingles as she enters, hunching down a bit at the rather low door frame of the shop, taking in the endless mass of greens, and reds, and oranges and pinks that swirl and gather all over the place.

And while Yasha doesn’t mind the cold and harsh winter breeze blowing outside, she’s grateful for the somewhat warm and cosy interior, subtly smelling cinnamon and ginger in the air. 

“Just a sec, I’ll be right there!” comes Beau’s voice somewhere on the left, lost among the high bushes and leaves.

And but a moment later, she’s rewarded by the sight of Beau, casually moving around the plants and the flowers and she’s speaking, in a voice so soft Yasha struggles to understand what she’s saying. Only then she realises she’s talking to her plants, watering the rich dirt around their base. 

Beau turns, the bright smile on her lips fading, replaced by sadness and longing. “Hey, Yash.”

And memories of centuries spent together come rushing back to her mind. Of years living in the countryside, unaware of the wars waging across the empires. Of time passing while they travelled at large, never once stopping in the same town twice. All of it lost, with Kord’s prophecy hanging heavy over their shoulders. 

Yasha shakes her head, moving a few stray curls from her eyes. “How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

Yasha gestures to the space around them, taking step forward. “This! How can you love these flowers and then watch them die?”

Beau chuckles, her eyes softening as she walks back and forth along the too-thin path that leads to the back room. She caresses some of the bigger leaves, humming lowly as if pondering the question. “Why do you care?”

Yasha takes a step forward, her hand almost reaching out to Beau, stopping short of her shoulders. She ignores the way Beau tilts her head to the side, as if daring her to keep going. Instead, she lets her arm fall limp, clearing her throat. 

“I’ve never seen anyone love something as fiercely as you do.” She takes a deep breath, sliding down one of the trunks until she’s sitting on the floor. Taking her head in her hands, she continues, “I just… I just want to learn to love like that.”

Beau’s eyes soften, head dipping forwards as she plucks one of the nearby tulips. “I think I can help, yeah.”

**

It started like that.

They don’t touch. They can’t, Yasha amends bitterly. 

But Beau, true to her word, tries and tries again, showing Yasha just how easy is to love something. Or someone. 

Yasha has been hanging out at the shop more, learning the names of plants and flowers and trees she hadn’t even dared to dream of. And it’s funny how, unlike animals, the most colourful flowers are not poisonous. Sometimes. 

She remembers how Jester – one of Beau’s friends – had laughed at the red rash her hands had sported after a particular encounter with one of the ‘plant babies’ Beau had claimed to be so fond of. 

Yasha still feels a faint itch at the memory and glares at the offending plant, now in full view on the counter. And if Beau giggles anytime she does, well… that’s a lucky coincidence. 

She likes spending time with the rose bush, trimming the edges just like Beau had taught her and carefully clipping some of the gnarled and hooked branches at the base of the plant. 

It’s where Beau finds her on a rather uneventful night, after dealing with the last of her customers. “Wanna go out? If your girlfriend is okay with it,” Beau nods to the rose bush. 

Yasha chuckles, putting away the shears and the gardening gloves Beau had given her sometime last month. She brushes them off and pockets them, finally standing up and turning to Beau. “Rose says we can go, but you have to promise to keep your hands to yourself. She’s very jealous.”

**

Beau drives them to an open field, parking her truck off the road and into the tall grass. It’s nearly midnight, and the night is cold but still. Almost like a painting. 

The sky is clear, hundreds of thousands of stars shining through and Yasha has never been one for astronomy but she can recognise a few of the constellation – she’d known some of them personally.

She’s still looking up at the stars when something hits her square in the back – her backpack – followed by Beau’s voice, “The sky is great, sure. But we’re not here for that.”

“We’re… not?” 

“Nope,” Beau says, voice strained after unloading the back of her truck. She leans against it for a second, closing her eyes. “Not really in the mood for it. We’re here for something far better. Come on!”

She winks and sprints away after that, backpack on her shoulder and a heavy lump of blankets in her arms. And if Yasha weren’t stunned by the sight of a Beau so carefree and happy she might have even caught up with her. 

And as she subtly wipes a tear, she trudges her way along the same path Beau had taken. 

Beau is sprawled over the soft blankets, chest still heaving from their race, her backpack forgotten a few feet away. “Took you long enough. Come here,” she says as she pats the space next to her.

Yasha’s cheeks flush at that, “I- Ah, Beau, there’s plenty of uh… blankets. I’m sure I can make a new bed with these only. It’s not a problem— okay, okay, okay… no need to make that face.” She sighs at last, sitting down on the makeshift bed. 

At Beau’s pointed stare, she groans, lowering all the way down until everything she can see is the dark sky and the stars. “Why are we looking at the sky, if we didn’t come here for that?”

“Shh. Just watch.”

And as if on cue, dozens of fireflies swarm the space lighting up every inch of their small camp. They fly all over them, ignoring them completely as they go on about their business. And their lights are mesmerizing, floating, and dipping and rising again, and Yasha is sure she has never seen a beauty and a wonder such as this spectacular show.

Turning to her left, she realises that maybe she has. 

Beau’s blue eyes are alight with glee and awe and the grin on her lips is the same she sports every time a new flower blooms. “You’re supposed to look at the fireflies, dork.”

“Maybe I found something better to look at.” She only half whispers, her caution thrown at the wind. 

At that, Beau closes her eyes and bites down on her lower lip, as if trying to stop the words from slipping out. “Yash…”

Yasha rises until she’s resting on her elbow, her hand hovering over Beau’s cheek. “Beau, I can’t… I can’t do this anymore.”

It’s Beau that leans up and Yasha almost keens at the thought.

The lightning hits the ground inches from their bodies, jolting them apart. Yasha’s lips feel bare, and Beau had been so close… She looks at Beau, her wild eyes and ragged breath, as she’s touching her lips with tears running freely down her cheeks. 

“Beau, I’m… I can’t say I’m sorry, forgive me for that.” Her head hangs low, arms resting on her bent knees.

“Just- Just forget this ever happened.” Beau hastily stands up and packs her things, almost running towards the truck, not once turning to look at Yasha. 

And Yasha feels alone. 

**

There are tense weeks after that night. It’s out of silent but mutual agreement that they don’t speak or mention it, even as they work together in Beau’s shop. Yasha had tried to leave, if only to give Beau some space, but a single glance at Beau had her reconsider. 

And while even some of the most clueless of Beau’s friends had noticed something different about them, none of them had addressed it, preferring to just send sympathetic smile in Yasha’s direction and offering their moral support should she need it.

She’s watering the higher pots, the ones Beau can’t reach even though she was the one who had put them there, when the doorbell jingles and the smell of freshly baked goods fills the room. Jester skips over by her, kissing her cheek and leaving a blueberry cupcake in her hands. “For you, Yasha! I know blueberry’s your favourite.”

“Thank you, Jester. How’s your mother?”

“Oh, you know,” Jester replies, perched on the counter and carefully unwrapping the biggest cupcake Yasha has ever seen. “She’s at the Chateau performing and entertaining some of the most important people of the city council.” She bites at the cupcake just as Beau passes by, grabbing another one from the box. 

“Thanks, Jessie. I heard Marion was gonna perform for the festival?” Beau half asks, eyes closing at the taste of the cupcake and even Yasha has to admit that out of all the cupcakes Jester has ever brought them, these are by far the best. 

Jester hums, wiping a bit of buttercream from her chin. “Mom said she wasn’t going to perform at the festival, but she’s hosting a ‘private show’,” she wiggles her eyebrows for good measure, “for Winter’s Crest and the attendance list is already pretty long. But don’t worry, you guys! I saved you the best seats!” She all but yells, jumping down from the counter and hugging Beau. 

“That’s amazing, Jester. Tell your mom we’ll be happy to join,” Yasha says, smiling when Jester wraps her arms around her middle, hugging her tightly. 

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow night then! It’s very relaxed but elegant, so be sure to dress the part!” 

And with that Jester is gone, leaving behind only the faint smell of cinnamon and sweets and silence. Yasha goes back to her task, stopping shortly after when Beau clears her throat behind her. 

Turning around she sees her scratching the back of her neck, as if she’s nervous or anxious about something and it’s not the first time she shows her vulnerable side to Yasha, but after the last few weeks, it’s something Yasha missed. Having Beau just bare herself to her eyes. 

“Is everything okay, Beau?”

Beau looks up, “Yeah, sure. I just… Do you want to go to Marion’s private show?” she rolls her eyes at that and Yasha has to admit she would too if she didn’t find Beau so endearing. 

“Like, together?” Beau finishes, looking anywhere but at her. 

Yasha tenses and she knows it’s not because she doesn’t like the idea but rather because she most definitely didn’t expect Beau to be so straightforward about it. Especially considering her way to deal with what had happened but a few weeks back.

Beau must notice the way she freezes if the way her arms cross at her chest and her eyes harden are any indication. 

“Beau,” Yasha moves closer, right up to Beau until there’s only the space of a breath between them. She closes her eyes, taking a deep breath and calming her thundering heart. “I do want to go to the festival with you, but… What- What if something else happens? I know I was reckless, and I don’t want anything to happen to you because of me.” She opens her eyes then, her unshed tears mirroring Beau’s own, “You’re the most important person in my life, I can’t lose you again.”

“We’ll be careful, Yash.” Beau’s voice cracks, “I can’t lose you, either.”

**

They end up missing Marion’s performance, but Yasha can’t say she minds too much. The festival was in full swing by the time they had shown up, food and game stands spread through the main road and squares, lights and decorations hung above their heads as if by magic.

Beau had led her to one of her favourite trucks of the fair, ordering two of Nicodranas’ largest sandwiches to ever see the light of day. It fit her hand nicely, Yasha had thought, struggling not to laugh as she watched Beau wrestle her sandwich into her mouth, to no avail.

Now, stomach full and a little drunk on euphoria and ale, they roam the main thoroughfare, hands not quite touching but closer than they ever dared to. 

“Yash! They have those shooting games, we gotta try one!” Beau starts tugging her towards the stand, by the lapel of her flannel and while she hears the loud thunder rumbling in the distance, the grin lighting up Beau’s face is worth it.

“I’ll challenge you, Yash,” Beau says, handing her one of the rifles and grabbing a pistol for herself. “Winner gets bragging rights and a fully paid dinner at that fancy restaurant we like. Deal?” 

Yasha cocks her rifle, a smirk on her lips, “Deal.”

**

Unsurprisingly, Beau wins. “Told ya you were no match for the best shooter of all Exandria.”

Yasha scoffs but still smiles when Beau climbs one of the light poles to shout her victory to the world, as she had put it moments before.

Somehow, they’ve gotten to the beach. The ocean is calm, its gentle waves cresting the soft sand and lulling Yasha and Beau into a comfortable silence, as they sit side by side under the dim light of the two moons. 

“You know—”

“Beau, I—”

They chuckle, and Yasha motions for Beau to continue. 

Beau hums, looking towards the dark sea and the shining reflections of the moon and the stars. “I’m tired. Tired of this situation and of being told what to do. We’ve been apart for centuries and- Gods, Yash. I am dying to touch you. I want to hold your hand and hug you and fucking kiss you and it’s driving me crazy. I can’t. Not anymore.”

Tasting salt on her lips, Yasha knows she’s crying but she doesn’t care. “Then do it.” 

She stands, uncaring of the sand sticking to her clothes, offering a hand to Beau. “Fuck our curse and those who put it on us. We’re our own and we belong together, my love.”

Beau looks at her with a mix of incredulity and love and wonder and she finally takes her hand, a shiver running down their spines at the sensation. 

The first lighting strikes inches from their feet. 

They laugh, open and loud, as more and more lightnings keeps hitting the sand around them. It’s thrilling and exciting and as they look into each other’s eyes they stop running, walking closer and closer until their foreheads rest against one another’s. 

The lightnings pick up pace, striking the sand and creating new shiny glass with each impact. The beach is alit by the furious and raging storm, and Beau and Yasha are its centre.

Yasha cups Beau’s cheeks with her hands, and then bends down for the gentlest of kisses, the barest brushing of lips.

Time seems to stand still then.

The lightnings stop at mid-air and so do the waves, the wind, the people here to see this event up close. 

Then Beau kisses her more firmly and eternity flows again.

“And Yash? You always knew how to love like this.”


End file.
